


Uncertain Alliance

by hhavenh



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-08-08 14:41:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7761889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hhavenh/pseuds/hhavenh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I would like some assistance in…in handling him.” There was really no other way to put her difficulty. Lucia was sure she’d been dealing with her brother’s temper and rashness since the very womb, but this latest idiocy was too much. More than she could deal with, since manhandling Geoffrey into sense wasn’t something she’d been able to accomplish since their childhood. </p><p>The Fireman paused in the shadow of an oak, bark yet bearing the deep scars of war and siege.  Even so vague a darkness embraced him in expected routine, the whole of him almost more familiar to Lucia’s sight. “…Handling how?”<br/></p><div class="center">
  <p> --- </p>
</div>
            </blockquote>





	Uncertain Alliance

“-and then she-, yes, your dinner is coming!” Calill called back into the mass, her thin brows coming together impatiently as she turned back. “You wait here, darling, and I _will_ finish this story.”

Lucia didn't have a moment to reply, or really do anything but wave as her conversation partner stepped towards the kitchen, each step so elegant that she nearly seemed out of place in a tavern. Would have too, were she not such a staple of Greil’s Retreat.

Lucia’s mother had walked with that same sort of grace, a swift determination in each stride. Was strange to be recalled of her in this hub of noise and drink, but Lucia couldn't help the fondness that surged as she watched Calill handle patrons and platters with as much exactness as she did hellfire and arcanic gales.

That fondness was so much preferred to the frustration that Lucia had arrived here with hours ago, in a mood sharp enough that Largo had refused to even let her take a seat before she’d downed half a mug of one of his spiced ales.

Lucia was so far away from that frustration now. Half the capital away, in fact.

“And so I told her-, oh dear.” Calill came to a halt on the other side of the bar, a long finger lifted to tap at a scarlet lip. “I’ve already told you that part, haven't I?”

“Told her to take it on the chin and buck up,” Lucia supplied, leaning forward on her elbows.

“Yes, exactly!” Calill agreed, fingers snapping. “Told her to stop taking every little thing so personal, and then _she_ -.”

Had any of her lessons been given with the same enthusiasm as Calill delivered her gossip, Lucia might not have been so reluctant a student in her youth. Instead of sneaking off to watch the guard practice on straw enemies she might have paid attention to Delbray's trade policies and caused herself a little less grief when the duchy was placed on her shoulders.

A wistful thought, though the whole state of Delbray's governing was hardly less aggravating than her reason for having spent the afternoon in Calill’s company.

“-runs back bawling about some foolish-, ah. Your quarry is here, darling.”

Lucia blinked, focus returned, “Sorry?”

Calill waved her towards the other end of the bar with a delicate turn of her wrist, already gathering wayward dishes with the other hand, “The Fireman, dear, and I suggest you hurry. He doesn't tend to stay long these days.”

Lucia could’ve given her reason for that, but was too busy emptying her ale in a gulp and pushing to her feet.

\---

He was already back out the door and submerged in the market traffic by the time Lucia freed herself from the many patrons so insistent on toasting her health. She’d hailed him twice but Volke hadn’t even glanced her direction, the usual din of Largo’s no doubt at fault.

The same couldn’t be said of the streets, though Lucia refused to assume she was being ignored. The market was full, the hawking of merchants and constant stomp of steeds a symphony all their own, but still nothing outrageous. Nothing that would give decent reason for why the Fireman _still_ continued on without a single hesitation.

“Sir Volke!” Lucia tried again, a strange rasp of attempted subtlety and volume. No heads turned, the crowd occupied enough with their own dealings that the sight of a Crimean noble striding through the midday market was of little concern. A preferred state in all honesty, if the one person she actually wanted discourse with would take notice. “Sir Volke, a moment!”

But no, he was gone from sight, the ragged edge of his scarf snaking quickly around the edge of a wax stall. That wouldn’t do at all.

Lucia put a hand to her scabbard to halt any swing and took a sharp turn, her boots snapping against the cobblestones as she rushed down the side of a tannery. A quick leap over a garden wall, another over some precariously stacked crates, and Lucia emerged a block from the market, her lips curving wide when she saw that her chase hadn’t been in vain.

Not that Volke looked so impressed with being followed. His arms were crossed, shoulders low as he leaned against a lamp post. Even unmasked he was rather strange to see surrounded by the soft grace of Melior. Perhaps it was not obvious from his appearance that he was a man apart from the tenants of lawful civilization, but battle and shadow somehow still seemed a more fitting atmosphere.

Unkind thoughts, though Lucia was in no mood to feel badly for them. Not when it was now so incredibly clear that her hails had been noticed.

“You must have heard me calling,” Lucia accused as she stepped closer, tone tinged more in confusion than the low simmering irritation that even spiced ale hadn’t fully quelled. “Why didn’t you stop?”

Whatever the reason he seemed to have little intention to part with it, not even a sliver of apology in the stubbled extent of his face. Nor any interest, as if he hadn’t the slightest care for why Lucia would have been hailing him so. He-, goddess, he looked _bored._ Annoyed even! “Be brief.”

Patience was a virtue, patience was the wisest course, patience was so difficult to even _attempt_ when near all of it had been spent on her brother.

All truths, but Lucia would persevere.  She even managed a deep breath, hands folding together as if she might draw that elusive patience from an act so reminiscent of her lady, “I would appreciate some assistance-.”

The words were barely out of her mouth before Volke pushed away from the post, fresh annoyance so evident in his tone. "Not a charity."

"I haven't even told you-." He-, good goddess, he was actually walking away! The absolute cad! How could he be so rude? So absolutely and utterly without even a sliver of courtesy? How could her brother possibly stand someone so-, so-, _oh_ , Lucia didn’t even know what to call a man this devoid of common decency! "It's about Geoffrey!"

Why she’d bothered with leading in any other way was a mystery. Volke did not immediately halt but his stride slowed.  Lucia took the opportunity for what it was and sped to be abreast of him. He did not look at her, nothing in his manner that would suggest he even cared to be walking alongside the duchess of Delbray. Though if even half the stories were true, then Lucia certainly didn’t rank with the sort of individuals rumored to have taken the Fireman’s time.

But still, how could this man possibly make a living when so needlessly brusque? At the end of the day Volke was still a businessman, and there was nothing like a poor manner to stave off customers. Skill and reputation could only account for so much. “Are you always this-.”

"Make it quick."

He was so _sharp_. So suddenly cold and brisk. Terse enough to force a nervous prickle to surge beneath Lucia’s flesh.

Foolish, of course. The Fireman would do her no harm. Would not even attempt or threaten any, no matter if he disliked being baited with Geoffrey’s name.

Strange that Lucia knew no relief in that maybe knowledge. Stranger yet that she wasn’t sure what had actually prompted his renewed irritation, be it her continued presence or real concern about Geoffrey. She did not know this man, was not confident that any truly did. Her brother was no exception to that, more than one conversation on his…association with the Fireman prompting little more than a bright grin and a shrug. Worrying then and even more so now.

Maybe Lucia had assumed too much in thinking that Volke held any true affection for Geoffrey, or was interested in anything beyond whatever…closeness they shared.

Goddess. This old and she still couldn’t even vaguely _think_ about her brother engaging in intimacies without instant distaste flooding every thought.

An unlooked for boon, what nerves Volke's manner had wrought so swiftly washed away.

“I would like some assistance in…in handling him.” There was really no other way to put her difficulty. Lucia was sure she’d been dealing with her brother’s temper and rashness since the very womb, but this latest _idiocy_ was too much. More than she could deal with, since manhandling Geoffrey into sense wasn’t something she’d been able to accomplish since their childhood.

The Fireman paused in the shadow of an oak, bark yet bearing the deep scars of war and siege.  Even so vague a darkness embraced him in expected routine, the whole of him almost more familiar to Lucia’s sight. “…Handling how?”

She nearly didn’t have the patience to assuage his obviously suspicion, heat spiking within as she recalled again how-, how difficult her fool of a brother was being over something so simple! “He won’t listen to me, or Elincia, or anyone that even _bothers_ to try and make him see _sense_ -.” Had to stop. To shut her eyes and breathe, before her voice got any louder. Maybe she’d had too much ale if Geoffrey was aggravating her so without even being _present_. “I need you to convince him,” to stop being such a blasted _child,_ "to see a surgeon."

Immediately those dark eyes sharpened, clear displeasure in the thin press of Volke's lips, "Said he'd get that taken care of three weeks ago."

"He hasn't!" She shouldn't have felt such absolute glee in tattling on her brother. "He's been moaning and carrying on so much you'd think someone took a pike to his gut." Solidarity in annoyance wasn't a way Lucia had made an ally before, but she was so _very_ _willing_ , especially when considering the Fireman's reputation for success.

Perhaps that sort of dedication was reflected in his...less professional pursuits as well.

“Idiot,” he muttered as he glanced back towards the market, though Lucia had no idea if she could classify that quiet irritation as fond. “Whatever. I’ll handle it.”

 _Yes_. “Perfect!” Lucia exclaimed, reaching forward to clasp his arm as a smile curved her lips. The cheer didn’t fade even when Volke instantly back-stepped, eyes sharp and so very intent on the approach of her hand. Lucia didn’t make mention of his strangeness, attempting to cover the action by pulling her fist back towards her as if in victory. Which this was, the whole of Melior to benefit from Geoffrey being forced to act as the adult he allegedly was. “If you can get him to agree today, I’ll have the surgeon-.”

“Don’t bother.” He was still eyeing her suspiciously, sliding another half-step in obvious retreat. “Said I’d handle it.”

Lucia felt her brow furrow as she rested her hands on her waist, “But if the surgeon doesn’t know, she’ll leave for the day.”

Volke’s narrow eyes met hers briefly before he glared back down the alley, arms again crossed, “She won’t be necessary.”

Maybe laughter wasn’t the best response, no matter how sudden and brief. “Of course she will be,” Lucia corrected, fingers pressing harder against her hips to keep herself from slapping Volke’s shoulder. He wasn’t one of Geoffrey’s knights, nor someone likely to respond positively to that sort of familiarity if a simple arm clasp had posed too risky a gesture to allow. “How would you possibly manage without one?”

He shifted weight to his back foot, impatience clear as his shoulders fell in a silent sigh. “I’ll handle it.”

“But how?” Lucia insisted, determined to stand here all day if that’s what it took to outlast this man’s stubbornness. No wonder he and Geoffrey got on so well! “Without a surgeon, how could you possibly-.”

“He doesn’t need a surgeon for a rotten tooth,” Volke grit, the returned sharpness of his eyes forcing that nervous tension to again spread beneath Lucia’s flesh. “Anyone with nightveil and a blade could-.”

“Nightveil!” Her voice was high, was louder than she’d meant, but what could be expected when someone was speaking so casually of pouring nightveil down her brother’s throat! “That-, no, that’s the most foolish thing I’ve ever heard! You can’t just drug him and muck around in there with your filthy knife!” Lucia wouldn’t allow it, not when there were so many _better_ options. The castle’s surgeon being the best! Geoffrey might not be very fond of Sonali, but there was no one more qualified, no one less likely to make a mess of an already terrible situation.

Goddess, but Geoffrey would moan on about it for _months_ if something happened while getting his tooth tended.

That wasn’t something they could stand, not something Crimea could stand, even if the Fireman’s irritation was nearly enough to make Lucia throw up her hands and let be what would be.

“Your surgeon isn’t going to do anything different,” Volke growled, still so quiet in his shadows. It was honestly ridiculous that he’d even found any to lurk in at this time of day.

“But at least she’s done it before,” Lucia argued, each word long enough that some might have called it a whine.  “She’s had practice, she knows what she’s doing, she can-, _where are you going?”_

Again! He was just walking away!

That cad! “Volke!” Lucia ran to catch up, reaching for his shoulder if only to make him pause as he sidestepped her reach. His jaw was clenched in pale irritation when he twisted away, everything about him so nettled and quietly cross. Lucia didn’t even resist her own urge to back up, hands lifted as if that would convince him that her intentions were nothing but good and practical. “Just-, just be reasonable,” she tried, nothing even slightly politic in her tone. They were beyond that point, if she honestly had to convince an assassin not to stumble around in her brother’s mouth with a knife. “There’s no reason for you to-.”

“You haven’t handled this,” Volke grit, more in the manner of one stating fact than casting blame. Not that Lucia felt the better for it. “Neither has he. So I will.”

That...shouldn’t have sounded so alarming.

Though what else could be expected when laying a task at the Fireman’s feet?

“We-, we’ll let him decide.” Lucia managed, again folding her hands in front of her the way Elincia would during a particularly trying audience. Perhaps it was more for physical control than mental. Likely, with how every fiber of Lucia’s arms wished to reach out and _beat_ this absurd man into compliance. Certainly not a tactful endeavor. Nor possibly a survivable one, when considering an individual of the Fireman’s capability. Though Lucia was nearly past the point of caring. “I expect you were headed to see him? We’ll just go together, get it all settled at once.”

He didn’t like that idea. Volke was so very clearly in complete disagreement with so _sensible_ a course of action, but Lucia didn’t give him time to protest, stepping towards the castle with as much determination as the snap of her boots could manage.

\---

“Alright,” Lucia began, eyeing the door to Geoffrey’s office as one would an approaching foe, “I’ll go in and see if he’s come around to the idea at all.” Unlikely, nothing in the whole of Tellius so stubborn as her brother. Though perhaps that title had been claimed by the man standing sullenly beside her. Lucia wasn’t exactly sure at present. “Course he’ll have some excuse and start muttering on about his duties or something as foolish, but if he still refuses-, _Volke!”_

No, they didn’t need a plan! Lucia hadn’t been failing in her attempts to force Geoffrey to see sense for over a month! Volke could just shoulder the door open and slink past the threshold like some lanky hound returning home!

Why did he have to be this way? So opposed to sense and _teamwork_.

Still, Lucia wasn’t slow to step after him.  Even as frustration heated her blood anew.

Her brother didn’t bother to look up as they approached, head propped in one hand as he scribbled a signature with the other. There was little so indicative of his mood than the loss of his penmanship, Geoffrey generally as worried on that as he was the shine of his cutlery collection. Though even without that tell his appearance gave evidence enough of the state he’d put himself in. He was still in his riding clothes and hadn't shaved at all recently, blue stubble sweeping across his cheeks and down his throat. It was honestly for the best that Geoffrey’d not had the patience to attend court lately, if he couldn’t even manage to groom himself. 

"Don't care what you want," he grumbled as he made to sign another document, gaze yet low and displeased, "take it up with Kieran."

Lucia opened her mouth, but hadn’t managed the slightest sound before Volke kicked the desk.

The quill skidded, an angry splotch erupting across the parchment. “Goddessdamnit!” Geoffrey snapped as he reared back, so sharp and sudden that Lucia’s ears rang as she hurried near. “Blasted idiot! What’s the matter with-!”

In any other situation this might have been humorous. To see Geoffrey with his mouth agape as he finally took note of his visitors, eyes wide and startled, wrath forced to so sudden a halt. It was something Lucia might have expected to see in a theater comedy. Had it not been the Fireman standing before her brother’s desk she might even have laughed.

But instead her throat was dry, almost parched as an unwanted anticipation built in her chest.

Not that she understood why. Volke hadn’t moved, little aggravation actually seen in the height of his shoulders. Lucia couldn’t see his face, but Geoffrey couldn’t have been too unnerved by whatever he saw. Not if he felt little compulsion against looking her way, a brow then risen in so clear a suspicion as she halted at the side of his desk. A middle distance between them was likely the most appropriate. Her closeness could maybe remind Geoffrey that she did this only because she cared, and if the Fireman did attempt something Lucia could intercede before anything dramatic happened.

That was her hope, at the very least.

Geoffrey didn’t look to take much note of the consideration. "Sister," he muttered, _betrayer_ no doubt on the tip of his tongue.

"Brother," Lucia returned, arms crossed as she shifted her weight over her left leg. "I hope we aren't interupting anything important?"

Geoffrey glanced at the ruined document and snorted, and then almost immediately grimaced. His whole body tightened like a coiled spring, lips pressed white. That he would put so much effort into keeping his ache silent only aggravated Lucia the more. "I can spare a moment," he breathed in ragged foolishness, work shoved away as he looked back at Volke.

He even smiled, a pathetic curve of his lips that had to be painful. "Hey."

Volke was silent. Silent and still, the very essence of unpredictable and unknown. A void of emotion or expression, so unnerving a lack to his face and eyes.

Lucia glanced away as unease returned to her blood. So few in the world had ever made her feel this...this uncertain. Intimidated even, though such was an admittance she would never make aloud. How could Geoffrey be so fond of this man? Even Bastian had made comment on how the Fireman could bleed a room of easy cheer by nothing but the rumor of his presence. Perhaps Bastian was even familiar with this same unease, hidden as it was beneath quick grins and a silver tongue.

Yet still Geoffrey smiled at this man, forced and painful as it had to be. "Didn't think I'd see you until dark."

Another moment of silence.  Of stillness. Of Lucia's blood growing ever more chilled before Geoffrey began to flounder. He leaned back as his smile turned brittle, palms flat against the desk, his right forefinger tapping quietly against the surface.  A nervous habit that mother had been determined to break him of. She’d never succeeded, Geoffrey still seen to do the same against the shaft of his lance. Though that itself was enough to realize that the Fireman likely unnerved him no differently than the man did Lucia. Even now Geoffrey's eyes were creased the same way they used to whenever father would catch him out past curfew, as if he wasn't sure what to attempt to avoid the inevitable scolding. “You-, uh, you look nice-.”

“Jaw hurt?” Volke grit out, head cocked like he didn’t already know the answer. An illusion broken by the narrow displeasure of his eyes. His expression had barely changed, but Lucia now felt his irritation as she would the sun in a midsummer swelter.

Clearly her brother was no different, the tempo of his finger increasing briefly before he crossed his arms. But even then he only sighed, long exasperation that lowered his shoulders. “Do we have to do this?”

Oh, _no no no_. That was not how this day was going to end. Lucia had heard her father say that exact same phrase the exact same way _too_ _many_ _times_ to not understand where so baited a statement led.  “You can’t put this off any longer,” she cut in rapidly, arms braced against the desk as she leaned forward in an attempt to reclaim her brother’s attention. “That you even tried to in the first place is-.”

“I didn’t try to put it off,” Geoffrey argued, though he muttered the words more to the parchment littering his desk than to either of them. “There’s not much I can do if there isn’t any blasted time to do it in.”

Volke was unmoved. “You had three weeks."

"A busy three weeks!" Geoffrey snapped as his eyes flashed, whatever remnant nerves the Fireman had inspired so instantly washed away by the tide of his temper. "You haven’t even been here! Do you have a single idea of how wrecked the coast would be if I hadn’t marched the _moment_ pirates landed at Canteus?"

That...wasn't untrue. And might even have been a valid point, had Geoffrey not been grumbling about not being able to chew properly long before those vile cutthroats had even been spotted. “Canteus is now well in order,” Lucia reminded, praise bitten off before she could voice it. Geoffrey looked in no mood to be swayed with comments on his aptitude and skill. “And apparently Kieran is more than capable of handling anything that might need your attention today.”

“Today?!” Geoffrey barked as he glanced at her, lips turned up in shocked humor before ache again forced them to twist. “There’s no way it’s happening today! I don’t have even half these requisitions approved, and then there’s-.”

“You realize that you’re only doing yourself harm, right?” If being reasonable was beyond him, maybe Lucia could just frighten him out of this ridiculous stubbornness. “If you just let it linger you’ll need more than one tooth pulled. Much longer and you won’t have any left. You’ll have to content yourself with porridge and soup for the rest of your _life_.”

“…Really?” He didn’t look frightened, not even worried, little but irritation and such stark exhaustion in his narrow eyes. “You know I was there when Mother tried that same spiel on you?”

Drat. He had been, had even teased her at the prospect.

Lucia leaned back and folded her arms, bottom lip rolled between her teeth. This wasn’t going at all as she’d intended. Volke wasn’t even being any help. Apparently he was more interested in nettling Geoffrey than actually getting this situation dealt with. Terrible man. Maybe she should have paid him. “Even if you were, that doesn’t mean I’m wrong. Sonali has seen the same happen a hundred times, a whole mouth gone to rot just because someone was fool enough to let one little tooth linger untended.”

" _Sonali_ ," Geoffrey scoffed, derision in the lift of his lip.  "Why not just get a butcher instead? I'm sure they'd be just as useful."

She'd expected this, not that Lucia was yet sure how to combat this particular grudge, "She is a fully capable surgeon,  one that has done this procedure too many times to count. You can't just-."

"Hah! Fully capable!" His blood was running quick now, a furious red hue climbing his throat.  "How capable was she when my horse was put down over _nothing_?!"

"That was a mistake," Lucia insisted, as she'd been insisting for years. "You know that was a mistake, and it was so long ago!"

"It doesn't matter how long ago-. "

“Shut up.” Volke was so brisk and biting, such impatience and ire made verbal in so few syllables. Did he honestly imagine that such a manner was helpful? Did Volke even know her brother at all? Cleary not, if he honestly thought that terse command would do anything but spur Geoffrey to greater mulishness. “Just get it handled. Stop being an idiot.”

Geoffrey's eyes snapped over, indignant and wide.  That he didn’t immediately lash out was beyond strange. Lucia could see how badly he wanted to, jaw clenched tight and hands fisting. His shoulders moved, a deep exhale flaring his nostrils. But then he only shrugged, every word gritted and so falsely calm, “If I could I would. Unfortunately my duties won't just handle themselves.”

Again, Volke was unmoved. “Wasn’t a suggestion.”

Good goddess, _why_? Did everything have to be so blunt, so forcefully delivered? Could not they coax Geoffrey to rationality, instead of intentionally baiting his temper?

And baited it was, renewed irritation sharpening Geoffrey’s eyes. His lip even lifted, pain no doubt ignored as so nettled a snarl twisted his face. “Are you sure?” he bit out, elbows propped on the desk as he leaned forward, the anticipation in Lucia’s chest swelling worse. “Seems like it’s _my_ goddessdamned decision whether or not-.”

Volke braced his hands against the edge of the desk, the extent of his tanned fingers unsettling even without a blade in sight. “ _It_ _was_ _not_ _a suggestion._ _”_

And that was it.

Teeth flashing, eyes furious slits, Geoffrey's face so red and wrathful. He didn't even seem to hear Lucia’s insistence to be calm, his entire attention so intently focused on the man before his desk. "I do not have the _blasted_ _time_ ," he hissed as he shoved his chair back, hands braced as if a moment from rising and throwing them from the room himself. "And when I do, it won't be spent letting some _drunken_ _sawbones_ -."

The Fireman was much faster than Lucia remembered.

A _second_ , a blink of her eye _,_ and Geoffrey's desk erupted in parchment and paperwork, the disruption so sudden that Lucia even reached for her sword. Volke was already across the surface before she even touched the grip, Geoffrey pinned to the chair. Lucia's eye was inexplicably drawn to where her brother’s forearms were trapped beneath the stretch of Volke’s thighs. She could see the muscle tighten as Geoffrey tried to pull free, the position much too intimate for her cheeks not to flush.

Geoffrey was too busy to see, the chair shuddering as he writhed and snarled so much as he could with his jaw held open. Volke was equally occupied, his thumb and the meat of his palm forced between Geoffrey's teeth. And of course there was a blade in his other hand, one Lucia hadn't even seen him draw. The slim metal shined in the afternoon light as Volke flipped it over his knuckles, “Stop moving.”

He couldn’t mean to really do this himself?!

“Sir Volke!” Lucia burst, though she didn’t dare continue her reach when the blade was then fit so close to the junction of Geoffrey’s jaw and throat. “You can’t just-!”

The blade pressed upward, the flat of the metal instead of the edge. Geoffrey went rigid, fists curled as so wretched a whine came free. He did not even try to halt the sound, the stark misery curling sourly in Lucia’s gut even though no one was to blame but her ridiculous fool of a brother.

Volke had not that same sympathy, Geoffrey’s neck forced to bend back further as he peered with. "How are you this stupid?" he muttered, blade no longer pressing against Geoffrey’s flesh. Though it was still far too close to allow even a little of Lucia’s unease to fade. "Bet you can’t even eat.  No wonder you're in a mood."

“Does-, does it really look that bad?” Lucia edged closer, hands on the verge of wringing. What if Sonali couldn’t handle the procedure?

Geoffrey bucked before Lucia could insist on an answer, inarticulate fury again assaulting her ears.

"Keep this up," Volke murmured as he rode his captive’s struggles with ease.  His blade was back against Geoffrey’s skin, sliding swiftly enough that Lucia was positive she saw stubble fall. "-and I won't bother putting you out first."

A reasonable man wouldn't have doubted such a threat.

A reasonable man wouldn't even be in this ridiculous situation, ignoring his own health to the point that the _Fireman_ had been required to browbeat him into compliance. But of course Geoffrey wasn't reasonable. He liked to name her rash, but Lucia hadn't done a single thing that could even compare to this sort of foolishness. And she certainly wouldn't have tried to bite the hand holding her jaw open, not with a blade so near her flesh!

But Volke didn’t release when Geoffrey attempted to grind down on his thumb, didn’t even flinch. He was a being of such strange patience, calm and cool when moments before Lucia was sure violence had been upon them.

Though maybe it still was, nothing but fury and garbled indignation in every sound leaving her brother’s throat.

"These are your options," Lucia spoke over, tone much more stern and collected than she actually felt. "He flays you open, or you see a _practiced_ surgeon."

Geoffrey wasn’t a fool. Not really. That this was even a decision to be made only showed how tired he was. How hungry and exhausted and irrational the prolonged ache had made him. Self-inflicted ache no doubt, but that irritating fact didn’t stop Lucia from wanting to do a thing besides see him tended. Which he could be, and so _easily_ , if only he’d stop wasting so much time and energy refusing her every attempt to do so.

But maybe he was done.

Geoffrey’s grumbles ceased, his body stilled.  His jaw was even allowed to close, though Volke’s hand didn’t go far. The back of those unnerving fingers were against the side of Geoffrey’s face, what might have been a caress if Lucia didn’t know better. She honestly wasn’t sure the Fireman was capable of so affectionate a gesture, the continued proximity of his blade indication enough of whether she was right.

Thoughts for later. Her brother was the priority, his health Lucia’s only care, no matter how opposed both he and Volke might’ve been to the same.

“Does it have to be Sonali?” Geoffrey finally muttered, turning enough to fix Lucia with a glare that she in no way deserved.

But Lucia only spread her hands and shrugged, brows curved up in a dutiful sister’s sympathy. “There is no one else here. Father Marco is still on his pilgrimage, and his acolytes don’t know how to do more than patch you up after the tooth is removed.” Unfortunate, but even a weak blessing would be better than just letting Geoffrey’s flesh knit back together in its own time. “If we get your tooth pulled in the next hour, then-.”

“ _No_ , good goddess,” Geoffrey snapped, hands again fisting in their captivity. “I’ll get to it, but I’m not wasting any more of my day-.”

Volke’s false caress shifted, his fingers again taking possession of Geoffrey’s jaw and forcing him to turn. Lucia’s call to stop was ignored as the edge of his blade traced so worrying a line, " _Now_."

And before Lucia could actually determine if a tackle was necessary, or likely to even _succeed,_ her brother tossed his head like some tempered stallion and sighed.

Strange how that irritation finally convinced Volke to let him go. He even sat up on his knees far enough that Geoffrey’s forearms could snake away, something almost sweet in how one freed hand then reached to curl against his hip. Reflexive support so instantly given despite the fury forcing Geoffrey’s face pale.

Or perhaps that pallor was only more evidence of pain.

"So!" Lucia called brightly, determined to see this ridiculous situation ended, "I will go gather Sonali?"

"Doesn’t seem like I have much _choice_ ," Geoffrey grit, eyeing the man in his lap in so far from a tender way.

\---

Two full tankards of Largo’s spice ale in hand, a smile pasted on her face, and Lucia was ready to weather whatever mood her brother was in. He had to be in better spirits, but Geoffrey was a contrary enough man that Lucia almost expected him to still be sour and surly even though he’d had that wretched tooth out now for more than a week.

His office door was cracked when Lucia came near, though she heard no conversation. She was rarely so hesitant around her brother, but now Lucia couldn’t help the insistence, toeing the heavy door barely more open before calling out, “You busy?”

Geoffrey glanced up from his desk with wonderfully clear eyes, not half so tired in appearance as he’d been last she’d seen him. Oh, but he was even clean shaven and dressed for court! Lucia was almost willing to bet his hair had seen a comb. “Thought you’d be gone longer,” he commented, waving her in.

So far so good.

Lucia wasn’t slow in stepping forward, satisfaction a low warmth in her chest. “There wasn’t really anything that needed my attention.” A wasted trip really, though Lucia wouldn’t make such a comment aloud, even with no one but her brother here. That every wall had ears was the first lesson father had ever taught her.

Geoffrey glanced back up, a brow cocked, “So Delbray is well?”

“Very well,” Lucia leaned forward to set her burden on the edge of the desk, beyond satisfied when nothing spilled from either tankard. “I’ve no idea what Miranda was in such a tiff about. The crops are coming in fine, taxes are being paid. Apparently there were some street brawls a few days before I arrived, but that’s certainly not enough to merit her letter.”

Geoffrey hummed, though he looked far more interested in the ale than anything else. But that was alright. So long as his own lands were in hand there was no real reason for him to give much attention to the state of Delbray as a whole. He had burden enough securing Crimea without being weighed down with any issues of the duchy.  Not that there had even been any, Miranda a more frazzled steward than Lucia had anticipated when she’d first appointed her to the post.

Considerations for later, when her brother wasn’t staring at the tankard as a cat would cream. “Is that Largo’s new brew?”

Lucia nodded, a cautious smile curving her lips. “Sent me back with a pitcher of it when he heard you’d been under the weather.”

His brows didn’t furrow, and his lips didn’t twist in a snarl to be reminded of his foolishness. There was nothing before Lucia even vaguely reminiscent of the waspish creature that had existed in her brother’s skin for the past month. Geoffrey even smiled as he reached, never one to turn down any of Largo’s specialties. “Much as I’d like to, more than one is a bit much this early in the day.”

The implication was clear, but Lucia still hesitated, “Suppose I should help you, then?”

He only gestured, the other tankard already to his lips.

Lucia gladly claimed a chair, a brow on the rise as she took notice of the plate beside Geoffrey’s elbow. “I thought you were to make due with grits and eggs for another week.” Steak and slaw was a far departure from either.

“I was advised to make due,” Geoffrey corrected, the ale lowered with such evident self-satisfaction.

Lucia felt her smile grow as she folded her legs beneath her, exasperation as familiar as fondness. “You were also advised to get your tooth dealt with weeks ago. By multiple people.”

Geoffrey rolled his eyes as he pulled the plate closer, “How many times do I have to remind everyone that there were pirates?”

“There were pirates,” Lucia agreed, more than happy to reach when a strip of meat was sawn off and offered on the end of Geoffrey’s fork, “but you were complaining long before they came ashore.”

Truths all, and Geoffrey was even in an easy enough temperament not to claim otherwise. He only cut a piece of steak for himself, lips quirked, “I didn’t complain half so much as you did when you sprained your wrist.”

Hah! “Liar,” Lucia accused, bright and fond. “At least I was sensible enough to let it be tended. No one had to go wrangle an _assassin_.” Her grin faded, even though Geoffrey only shook his head and smiled. “I-, I’m sorry about that, by the way.”

He glanced up from his lunch, a brow raised, “About what?”

Lucia bit her lip, not entirely yet sure if she even wanted to broach this subject. “I didn’t imagine he would be so…forceful.”

Geoffrey’s paused before taking another bite, his brows together, “You mean Volke?” He rolled his eyes when she nodded, the steak swiftly consumed. “Don’t worry about it,” he managed after he swallowed, nothing like blame in his tone or face.

But how could Lucia just ignore what she’d seen? Geoffrey deserved far more consideration than the Fireman had given him, no matter how entirely _aggravating_ and ridiculous the situation had become. It was…distressing to imagine that her brother had given his affections to someone so callous and unrelenting.

Lucia had no idea how to even begin that conversation, flippancy her only retreat, “I can’t imagine how you stand him.”

Geoffrey's teeth showed in a moment's humour, "He's not so bad."

“He is exactly that bad!” Lucia exclaimed, smiling despite her insistence. “I don’t think I’ve met someone so-, so…” How did she even describe the Fireman? He was as cloak and dagger a man as Tellius surely had ever seen, but that was so bland an appraisal. A man was not only his profession, that true of Volke as it was of anyone else. But _still_ he unnerved her like so few others did. How could one make true judgment of another without knowing their thoughts, their loyalties? Lucia knew as much about the Fireman as she did the workings of the stars. To think that so unknown a man had such access to her country, to the castle itself, was difficult to accept. That her brother and Bastian were fond of him in varying ways didn’t change that uncertainty.

Nothing but information would, not that Lucia had made even a little headway in the attempt of making the Fireman into less of a mystery.

"He's just so strange," Lucia finally managed, incapable of speaking her unease in any other way. "And so rude! You wouldn't believe how hard a time I had just getting him to speak with me."

Geoffrey snorted, not even the slightest discomfort twisting his face. "He told me you chased him through midtown."

Ridiculous man. “You’re lucky I did,” Lucia muttered, tugging her tankard closer. “He looked ready to skewer you when he found out you hadn’t taken care of it yet. Likely would’ve slunk up here and ripped your tooth out with his bare hand if I hadn’t gotten to him first.”

Distressing just in the thought, even Geoffrey cringing as he lifted his ale. “Wouldn’t put it past him.”

How could he possibly say that so calmly? Barely a week prior he’d been restrained against his will and threatened with true violence, but still Geoffrey acted as though Volke’s nature was just some harmless oddity. A quirk of his character, instead of actual indication of the sort of person behind the Fireman’s mask.

Lucia ripped another bite from the gifted steak, the only distraction she could manage. Not a terribly effective one, but enjoyable all the same. "You never told me how you two came together," she attempted after swallowing, as curious as she was suspicious of how so cold a man had caught her brother’s eye.

Geoffrey just shrugged, even as such evident fondness curved his lips and softened his face.  "Not that interesting a story."

“Really?” Lucia curled her fingers through the handle of her tankard, head titled. “Don’t tell me you seduced him with your cutlery collection?”

Laughter erupted from her brother’s throat, eyes creased as he pushed the rest of his steak aside. “Maybe I did,” he said as he pulled a stack of parchment near. There was no better evidence of his state of health than the return of his easy cheer. “There are people in the world who can appreciate-.”

“Oh, but _don_ _’t_ ,” Lucia groaned, head tipped back so she could share her distress with the ceiling. “No one cares about your three hundred year old forks. Not even the Fireman. He’s lying if he said otherwise.”

Geoffrey was still smiling when she straightened. A far departure from the man that had barked a squire to tears a fortnight past after overhearing a comment on the strangeness of his collection. “Maybe so, but I still like him.”

Lucia snorted, the rest of her ale downed. “You like him,” she muttered, lips curved as she shook her head. “Suppose that’s all that matters." It wasn't, but Lucia didn't have the heart to say so. "Though how can you be so sure he likes you?”

Again, that sudden contentment. A brief softening of Geoffrey’s smile, of his eyes and brow. “It’s not easy,” he admitted as he signed a document, the arcs of his name crisp and defined, “but he has his tells. Same as anyone else.”

Maybe that was true.

Though how Geoffrey had managed the patience to find them was a mystery all itself.


End file.
